The Fading Stars
by Bardic Jester
Summary: It's been 10 years since the final season of Total Drama. Noah has little to show for his time on it, except his friendship with Courtney. With a special 10 year reunion coming up, Noah is forced to reevaluate who he is now and what Courtney really means to him. Things get more difficult for him when he's asked to escort Heather, a movie star and recovering addict, to the reunion.
1. Ten Years

The Fading Stars

**Chapter 1: Ten Years**

The ten year anniversary of Total Drama came at a precarious time in my life. I was on a precipice, about to drive into the next stage of my life. At the time, I thought the reunion would be nothing more than a distraction. Total Drama had not been an important part in my life during the decade since it finished. There was no way I could have expected it would play out the way it did. The way it changed how we thought about Total Drama. The way it changed me.

Courtney was the first to tell me about the reunion. She gave me a call in early May. I'd sat down on my couch to eat cold spaghetti for dinner and smoke a joint. I was living in Toronto at the time. My basement bachelor pad apartment was located in the Annex neighborhood, on the north side of downtown. I had a bed, couch, bookshelf, turntable, and milk crates filled with LPs. I was listening to the Violent Femmes and sweating. It was a warm spring. The apartment had only two windows near the ceiling, and they did not open. It made the air stuffy. Next to my couch, I had a fan blowing, but all it did was move the warm air around.

When I picked up the phone, Courtney was the first to speak.

"Hey Noah," she said.

"Hey Courtney. What's up?"

"Not a lot. How was your day?"

"Quiet. I spent it working in the library. The final chapter of my dissertation is coming along. I want to get it done before June, when I need to mark the papers for the summer course I'm lecturing," I said. I put my cell on speaker phone, and took a bite of my meal. It was leftovers from a couple days before. I did not own a microwave, so I had to eat it chilled.

"Your last chapter? Sounds like you're going to be done soon. That's exciting. You've been working at it for so long."

"There's still a lot more to do. I'm not out of it yet. I dread having to defend it. I can imagine the panel they'll assemble to grill me."

"You'll do fine. If you can get far enough into the PHD to be able to defend it, then they're going to give it to you. It looks bad on them for letting you get that far otherwise."

I sat back in my couch. "True. I'm still stressed out about it. Sometimes I wonder why I need to go through all of these hoops. No one is going to read it anyway. How was your day?"

"Okay," Courtney said. "One of the partners was angry at me out for taking too long on a memo. I stayed at the office yesterday until 11 to finish it. I'm not sure how I could have done it any faster. Do they expect me to discover a couple new hours in the day?"

I let out a slight laugh. "They must hate the idea of you going home at night. I'm surprised they don't have assigned sleep pads set up so that you never need to leave."

"Some people practically have sleep pads. They store cots under their desks. Serious. I've seen it. I've been contemplating asking some of them for a recommended brand."

We shared a brief silence.

"They got in touch with me today. The Total Drama people," Courtney said. Her voice sounded strained at the suggestion.

"Yeah?" I perked up in my seat. I picked up my phone from the table, and turned it off speakerphone so that the music would not drain out any of the words. "What did they say?"

I was not surprised. The ten year anniversary of the show was in July.

Total Drama had been a popular show during its run. It ran for three seasons: Island, Action, and World Tour. We filmed it during the summer. The first season was shot when I was sixteen, having just finished grade 10. I was eighteen for the last season, right before I attended University for my undergrad. The show was a surprise hit. It was the highest rated show on TeleReal for those years. Despite its success, the show was abruptly cancelled after a dispute between the show runner and host Chris McLean and the channel. I expected the show to quickly fade into irrelevance and be forgotten in the graveyard of old cable television shows.

Chris, however, was not as willing to let it die. After his falling out with TeleReal, he wrote and directed a film called Volcanic Rush based on the events of final season. It was a romantic comedy centered on the two manipulative contestants falling for each other, leading to a disastrous end. With a shoe string budget, Chris was forced to hire Heather and Alejandro in the roles of the characters based on them.

Surprisingly, the film did rather well. When it released, it was the highest grossing limited release film of the year. People talked about it everywhere I went. I was uncomfortable about it. At the time, I'd just finished my second year of University. I had no interest in people knowing my association with the movie. Particularly that the snide sarcastic character had probably been based partly on me.

Chris was propelling into stardom by the movie. He'd directed four more films by the time of the reunion. I had heard that Heather and Alejandro were enjoying moderate success as actors as well.

Volcanic Rush also caused an increased interest in the show that inspired it. People were enthralled by the true story behind the movie. TeleReal had no plans for a fifth year anniversary celebration, but fans petitioned the network, so they put together a quick small gathering. It seemed reasonable to expect that TeleReal would try to profit off the show's continued relevance five years later. Courtney and I had talked about it a number of times, in the months leading up to it.

"They are planning something. It sounds as if they are in talks with Chris about it. At the moment, all they said was a number of non-committal statements. You know the sort, 'greatly interested', 'important conversations', 'genuine interest'. That sort of thing." I imagined her miming air quotes on the other side of the phone. The kind she was prone to do in person. "What I could gather from it, they're thinking of a television special, spread over a couple of nights. One night will focus on Chris' career development. Another will be a 'where are they now' sort of show focusing on us contestants. The final day will be a live talk show interview with Chris and all of the contestants." She spoke casually, as if we were talking about plans we regularly made with each other.

"Interesting," I commented, unsure of what to say. "They have not gotten in touch with me yet. I wonder why? Were they looking for legal advice too?"

"No," Courtney said, "They might not have gotten down to your name yet. It is a long list to contact everyone. There's what? Twenty four former contestants? They asked a lot about my current situation: what my job is, where I'm living, that sort of thing. It was actually kind of discomforting. It's weird talking about myself like that. I'm not sure what they were looking for."

"Easy," I suggested. "They probably want to do a spotlight on you. It makes sense. You were always popular on the show. Plus, you've had an exciting life the past couple of years. It'd be pretty boring if they were going to do a spotlight on me. There's only so much entertainment you can get from a stoned wannabe History professor spouting nonsense."

"That's not true. People liked you. And you are interesting!" Courtney insisted.

"What are you? My mother? Please Courtney, I don't need your false sympathy. Hell, I didn't like myself on the show. If I have any fans, I'm not sure I would want to meet them. It'll be like it always has been. Eva, Izzy and I will get a cameo. Maybe a brief mention. It's probably for the best anyways. It'd be totally lame if I was on the screen for too long. I'd hate for one of my students to see me on the thing."

"You're too hard on yourself," Courtney said, in a paternalistic voice. I rolled my eyes. That part of her annoyed me. "Anyways, I have to get back to work."

"Are you still at the office?"

"Yeah. We ordered Chinese. It's okay. We need to get this done."

"Well, try not to have too much fun," I joked.

I could hear her laugh on the other end. "Will do," she said. "Later."

And she hung up.

I finished my plate of pasta. Afterwards, I made myself a cup of green tea. Lighting the joint, I turned up the record, and thought of my fellow contestants on Total Drama. Besides Courtney, Bridgette and Owen, I had not seen any of them since the last reunion five years ago.

The fifth year anniversary was a mess. After the fans petitioned for it, TeleReal only had a couple of days to plan it. Their budget was small. They were constantly changing what was going to happen. The itinerary was only finalized the day before the event, so we attended without a good idea of what was going to happen. All I knew was that I wanted to get shit-faced.

They held it at a fancy hotel downtown. We were informed that we would need to pay for our own hotel rooms and drinks. Cody called me up about a week beforehand and asked if I wanted to split a hotel suite with him and Tyler. It was the first time I'd heard from him in years. I agreed. I had just finished my Master's degree, and was about to start my PHD. There was no way I could afford one of the rooms by myself.

Not everyone was able to attend the event. Chris was still on sour terms with TeleReal, so he did not attend. Owen was not there either. I'm not sure they were able to get in touch with him. When I talked to him later, he admitted that he knew nothing about the event, but would not have been able to attend anyway. Something about walking a pilgrimage across Spain. Duncan might not have been there either. Ezekiel too. My memory's a little too fuzzy to pin them down with any confidence. The fact that I remembered anything was a miracle.

On the day, Courtney and I showed up to the hotel together. The first event was a signing. All of the contestants present were lined up on a long table. Fans walked past with posters or DVDs to be signed. I topped up my cup of Pepsi with whiskey from my flask. The chair to my left was empty. I assumed it was reserved for Owen if he showed up unannounced. Lindsay sat to my right. I tried to ignore her and she spoke mostly to LeShawna instead. Few fans approached me individually. Most of the people who asked me to sign something was hoping for a complete set of signatures. Which was a hopeless effort, considering not everyone was there.

After the signing, I met up with Cody and Tyler. We checked into the hotel room and disposed of our bags. Cody was working for Amazon in Vancouver. He'd scored the job after finishing a Computer Science degree at UBC. He was upbeat, but clearly rattled by the event. He and Sierra had just broken up. The reunion was stirring up those difficult emotions. Tyler was more laid back. In the fall, he was going to start teacher's college. He was excited about it. His plan was to become a gym teacher. It suited him well.

The next event was the meet and greet with the fans. Courtney later told me that the tickets to get into the room cost fifty bucks. After she told me that, I felt a little bad for ignoring all of them. However, I doubt I was the attraction people were seeking. No one was interesting in paying that much to share some awkward words with me. I headed straight to the bar, trying to look as uninviting as possible. Eva sat down in the stool next to me. I finished somewhere in the range of a half dozen gin and tonics. Eva was like a tank. She downed round after round of some straight spirit. She was working up north at the Oil Sands in Alberta. Apparently she was making a lot of money off it, but it was tough. The work was hard and she had to work with a lot of assholes. 'Ezekiel-types' as she referred to them. She told me about one incident where she kicked out someone's teeth because he had grabby fingers. People left her alone after that.

Next, we headed to the Q&A. We were propped up on a stage in bleacher type seats. I'm not sure if there was any assigned seats. I was too drunk to read anything at that point. Eva and I sat at the back. It lasted close to two hours. I had to pee like you wouldn't believe after it. No one asked me any questions, which I was thankful for. I would have nonsensically slurred my speech if they had.

At the after party, I tried to catch up with Courtney. She was mobbed by a number of fans. She gave me a gentle wave, but I was self-conscious in the crowd. Feeling anxious, I met back up with Eva. Izzy joined us, and we did a couple lines of coke in the bathroom. Izzy kept laughing uncontrollably. She'd scored it off a friend after coming to the city. With the help of a distraction caused by Izzy, Eva stole a bottle of Stolichnaya from behind the bar, and we headed up to the rooms. In the halls, wide eyed and drunk, we caused a little ruckus. My jaw clenched tight and blood pounded in my temples from the blow. Eva tackled an ice machine, busting the front up pretty bad. Izzy pressed all of the buttons on the elevator. We tried to take a swig of the vodka for every floor we stopped at. We were like school kids, who'd been let loose for the first time. A foolish lot more interested in self-destruction than the world around us. We didn't care that the event was held for the fans. 'Fuck the fans!' Izzy kept repeating. We headed back to my room. The suite was larger than their individual rooms. We turned up all of the sheets onto the floor, and sat in a small circle.

Cody and Tyler showed up at some point later. I'm not sure when. It felt late at night, but for all I know, it could have been ten. They were surprised to see us looking so fucked. Cody asked if we'd done anything. Izzy giggled like a little girl hiding something. We let them finish the bottle of vodka. If I had anymore, I probably would have gotten alcohol poisoning. We passed around a couple of joints and shared some hazy conversations.

After vomiting for a bit, I passed out in my bed half naked next to Eva. We probably would have fucked if I was not so bloody drunk. There's no way my dick would have been able to get hard in a state like that.

I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. It felt like someone had punched me in the temples a number of times. A ringing dug into the back of my head like a drill cutting into my skull. I groaned mercilessly. My stomach felt like I'd eaten something rotten. An awful acidic taste crawled up the back of my throat with each breath. I stammered to stand, and vomit in the bathroom. It was easily the worst hangover of my life. The bathroom was a disaster. The mirror was broken and Izzy laid in the bathtub, with puke on the front of her shirt. Ignoring her, I puked in the toilet, and then drank water from the tap until I coughed. Feeling slightly dizzy, I rolled back into the bed, and did not move until the cleaning lady kicked me out after Cody had already checked out. I had not said anything to them before they left.

It was the last time I'd seen any of them.

I saw Owen about a year afterwards. He showed up to the History building one morning, and waited for me to show up. It took me a moment to recognize him. At first, I thought he was a bum. He was skinnier. His hair was long and scruffy. He had a full beard. His outfit consisted of a hiking backpack, tan khakis pants, a rain coat over a red t-shirt, and Doc Martens. He looked weathered. He resembled a wild man returning from the forest.

"Hey little buddy," he greeted me.

"Owen?" I asked, surprised. He brought me into a hug. He smelled awful, and I fought the urge to push him off of me. "What are you doing here?"

"I was in the city. Thought I might say hi. I didn't have an address, but I googled your name. It brought me here." He said with confidence. Owen was more intimidating than before. He'd always been a big guy, but when he was younger there was an unavoidable softness to him. A warmth radiated from his presence. He was more muscular now. The softness had hardened. I felt as if I was talking to a bear towering over me. It was difficult to connect this beast to my old friend.

"Do you want to grab a coffee?" I asked.

"Sure," he said with his boyish grin.

We headed down the block to a Starbucks. I grabbed a coffee, but he grabbed an herbal tea.

He began to spin a yarn of what he had been up to the past six years. After the season of World Tour, Owen decided he wanted to travel on his own accord. He used half of his winning money from Total Drama Island to help his parents pay off the mortgage on their family house. He set up an account with the other $50,000 of the money, and travelled across Europe. He sounded euphoric about it. The way someone describes taking morphine. Apparently, it was just as addictive to him. Owen said that after the account ran out, there were so many more places that he wanted to visit. He began to work for weeks at a time, until he could afford the plane ticket to somewhere new. He'd visited dozens of countries. He worked as a surf instructor in South Africa, an English teacher in Thailand, at a pub in Ireland, as a prep cook on a Russian cruise in the Baltic Sea. He'd just spent the past year going across Africa. For two months, he drove in a 74 Volkswagen Bus with an Australian. He'd been to Botswana, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Zambia, Tanzania, Rwanda, among so many others.

"Have you ever travelled little buddy?" He asked me at one point.

"Nothing more than the season of World Tour."

"That doesn't count. It was all phony. Stuff for the camera. I'm talking about really visiting places. Meeting the locals. You get a real sense how big the world is. The fact that there are so many other ways to live your life. I met people practically living in shit, who were some of the happiest people I've ever met. That doesn't mean it is okay for them to live that way, but it does make you think about how something must be wrong here. Doesn't it?" I was silent. I didn't know if he wanted a response. "If you get the chance, you should head out. Maybe one day we can go together. There's so many places I wish I could show you. Places that take your breath away: waterfalls in Malawi, having a beer at a floating bar in Vietnam. Too many to count."

"Why did you come back?" I asked.

"What?" Owen said, broken from a daze. I'd guess he'd been imagining a couple more places to add to that list.

"What are you doing in Toronto?" I specified. "Why are you back in Canada?"

Owen's boyish grin turn solemn. He fiddled with the empty cup of tea. "It's my father. Cancer. They caught it pretty late. He's not doing well. It took a while for them to track me down, and tell me of his condition. He doesn't have much longer."

"Shit," I said taken aback. "I'm sorry to hear that."

We sat in silence. We caught up for a bit longer. I told him about my degree. I described how I was enjoying academia. It was not as exciting as his endless tales. I retold him the events of the five year anniversary. He regretted not attending. Made me promise to have just as big of a time at the next reunion. We shook hands outside of the café. I gave him my email and cell number. He never got back to me.

Courtney and I were never friends on the show. I felt as if she was an overbearing bossy bitch. She considered me a know it all snobby rat. They were not necessarily inaccurate impressions. Once the show finished, we ended up attending the same university. She took Political Science, while I majored in History. We ran into each other occasionally during first year. We shared hellos, asked how each other's day was going, and promised to catch up sometime. It was not until second year of university that we actually planned anything. We met up at a coffee shop around noon. It was awkward at first, but once we started talking about Total Drama, things became easier. There was no one else I knew that I could connect over this big experience in my life. I always needed to explain the context of every joke or reference to Total Drama that came up in conversation with my friends; I stopped bringing up the subject altogether to avoid needing to give detailed accounts of everything. If I ever brought it up, people wanted me to speak about my experience. They wanted to know what it was like to be on television. It was completely different with Courtney. She knew exactly what I was talking about when I brought it up. It felt natural. We joked about behind the scenes things and our impressions of the other contestants. I shared stories that I'd nearly forgotten about. We were so engrossed in the conversation, we moved to a bar after the coffee shop closed, and shared a couple pitchers of beer. I felt as though I was untangling a cord that was knotted in the back of my mind. We helped each other make sense of this strange absurd time that no one else understood. That I did not understand myself.

We started to meet up regularly after that. At least once a month we'd catch up. When we graduated from our undergrads, I was accepted in a History Masters in Toronto. Courtney started law school in Toronto at the same time. Neither of us had any friends in the city, so we became a little closer. She graduated two years ago, and was able to find a job at the downtown firm she articled at. I stayed at the same university, and moved into my PHD after finishing my Masters in a year.

Since she started her job, we saw less of each other. We only went out a handful of times in the past year. Soon, when I finished my PHD, I would move to any city that offered me a tenure track position. It could be anywhere from Canada, to the United States or even England. The market was not good enough to give me an option. I would have to go wherever they wanted me.

I thought, on my couch, in my empty bachelor pad, stoned, how the reunion was going to be my chance to see the other contestants for the first time in years. And might be one of the last times I would see Courtney.

…

Author's Notes:

I hope you liked this. It's not my regular style. This story will move at a bit of a slow pace, but hopefully it will stay interesting.

Just to be clear, in the canon of this story, only three seasons took place. They were each filmed one summer after the other. This is an important fact to keep straight. I know there is a bit of an information overload in this chapter, and I hope you're not confused by it. If you are, feel free to ask me, and I'll clear it up.

I wanted to say thanks to my writing partner Nyhlus for giving suggestions and helping refine this story. This story is indebted to his help. If you're inclined to, check out some of the stories we've written together on his account. Particularly, I'd suggest _The_ _Pillars of Destiny _or _Spin the Bottle Cinderella_. I'm proud of both those stories.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	2. Calls

**Chapter 2: Calls**

It took about a week for the representatives from TeleReal to get in contact with me about the reunion. I was sitting in a coffee shop near campus. I sat alone at a table, sipping a cold espresso, looking over the revisions my thesis supervisor emailed me. It was the second time she'd sent me comments on that chapter. I had hoped after the first edit she'd think it would be good enough to send to my committee. I cursed when I saw the subject line in my inbox. The last thing I wanted was a further delay. I could feel the stress dig into my back. No matter how much more I worked, no matter how much further I felt like I climbed the mountain stretched out before it, my goal continued to feel unreachable. My resolve was waning slowly.

I picked up my phone on the third ring, anxious about why someone would be calling me. My anxiety turned to frustration when I realized it was about Total Drama. I was in no mood to discuss it. The man on the phone had a deep voice. He inflected on the first syllable of every beat, so that his sentences sounded off balance and top heavy.

"Hello Noah," he said firmly. No last names. It was an attempt to sound familiar. Like being called by an old friend. "We at TeleReal hope you have been doing well these past few years. As you know, it will be the tenth anniversary of the Total Drama Series this summer. There have been ongoing discussions about a reunion special here at TeleReal. And we recognize that this momentous occasion would not be possible without the contribution of those who were apart of Total Drama, yourself included. TeleReal feels that the participation of the contestants will be essential for a proper celebration of what Total Drama represents." He paused, waiting for a response.

"Whatever," I remarked, uninterested. I continued to look over my supervisor's comments. The phone call felt like a fly buzzing in my peripheral. An unnecessary distraction from the work in front of me.

"That's great Noah," the man said, as if he did not hear my response. He began to talk about how important Total Drama and the contestants were for TeleReal. He was careful not to talk about any concrete plans or intentions by the channel. "Now," he said, "something we're going to need to do is ask you a couple of questions. It will help us figure out exactly how the contestants will participate in the upcoming celebrations. We are certain that the fans will be eager to learn about what you have been up to in the years since the show."

I doubted that. No one cared about me, especially ten years after the show. Even at the height of its popularity, I was never accosted on the street or recognized in public. I was just as invisible off the show as I was on it.

I found the representative's fake sincerity laughable. I knew how the system worked. All they cared about was making money. Their only interest in the show was any money they could make off it. I'd been through two seasons of the show. I worked for a summer as an assistant to Chris. I knew how the game was played. He was not tricking me.

Still, I had no reason to refuse. "Sure," I finally acquiesced. I took a sip from my bitter cold espresso.

"That's great Noah," the man robotically repeated, like he was reading from a script and was not a particularly good actor. "These are going to be preliminary questions then. Their purpose will be to help us frame any later questions we will ask you for the show. Nothing you say will be used without your express consent or a contract. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"That's great. My first question is what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a student," I responded.

"A student? Good. What kind of a student? Did you just recently go back to school? Decide to get a second degree?"

"No," I said quickly. "I'm a PHD. I'm nearly done with it." My voice was agitated. I felt overly defensive.

"A PHD? That's impressive. What is your subject?"

"History."

He paused for a moment, waiting for me to iterate further. I stayed silent.

"Great. Which University are you doing your PHD at?"

"U of T."

"So you live in Toronto then?"

"Yes."

"What about your personal life? Do you have a wife or significant other?"

"No."

"Any aspirations for the future?"

"Finish my PHD. Hopefully find a job afterwards. Not much else."

"Do you have any hobbies, sports, or other activities you feel is important to you?"

"Can't say that I do."

"Great." The man's insistence on using the word 'great' started to annoy me. Its mechanical use sounded robotic. Like a calculated response to any possible answer to the questions. "Now," he said, changing his tone from inquisitive to a salesmen's pitch. "We're going to need a couple dates from you to help us do some scheduling. Are there any days during the summer that you would absolutely not be able to participate in the reunion?"

I thought for a moment. "I cannot think of any."

"What about dates for you to come in and do an interview with a camera crew? This would only take a couple of hours. Considering you live in the city, we could have you to come down to Corus headquarters and be interviewed on a soundstage. Although, if possible, we would also like to bring a film crew to your house. It would help people appreciate your current situation. The questions will not be too invasive. They'll probably be similar to the questions I just asked you. Are there any days that would be good for that?

"Any Monday, Tuesday, or Friday of the next month should be good. I lecture on Thursday." I said.

"Would it be possible to film one of your lectures? That footage could really help the viewer get a better picture of you."

"You'll have to ask the University. They deal with that sort of thing."

"Sure," the man said. "Well Noah, it's been nice talking with you. We will be in touch within the next week or two with further information. If you have any questions yourself, you know the number to call. Have a great day!"

"Okay," I said, and he hung up the phone.

...

The following Monday, I received a package. I tossed it onto my table and forgot about it until the evening. Once I came back from the University, I opened it, and spread out its contents on my desk. There was a contract, pages of documents, and a pamphlet for Wawanakwa Resort. I thumbed through the first couple of pages without reading a word. As I did with all legal documents that I received, I called my lawyer.

"Hey. Courtney?" I said. I stood in my kitchen preparing some food.

"Hey Noah," she said on the other line. "You receive that package?"

"Yeah," I responded. I was boiling some noodles with kale and spinach. In my hand, I examined a bottle of sweet sauce I found in my fridge. I had not noticed it before. The expiration date was smudged out, but it looked okay to eat.

"Did you read it?" Courtney asked on the other end.

"No," I admitted. "I hoped you would do that for me."

"Seriously Noah, what would you do without me?" She joked.

"Probably unknowingly invest in a pyramid scheme." I smelled the contents of the bottle. It was a little sourer than I imagined it was supposed to be. I shrugged. It would add some flavor to it. "So? Did you look at it? Is it fair?"

"It looks pretty standard," Courtney changed into her lawyer voice. "It contains the sort of terms you expect in this type of entertainment contract. There's a non-disclosure before air date clause, a noncompetitive clause, a clause giving permission for footage of you to be used in promotional material..."

I droned out her voice slightly. I poured some of the sauce onto a spoon and tasted a bit of it. Reflexively, I wretched. God. It tasted awful. Defeated, I tossed the bottle into the trash. I opened my fridge to see if there was anything else I could use. In the door, there was a nearly empty bottle of Sriracha. It would have to do. I placed it on my table. Looking at the documents in the corner of my eye, I picked up the brochure. "What's the thing about Wawanakwa Resort?" I asked.

Courtney paused. "Did you not read anything at all?" She audibly sighed. "You know Noah, I expect my clients to have at least looked at the document and have a rough understanding of what the contract is about before they contact me. They're wasting their time and money having me go over something so basic."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not paying you," I said cheekily. I stared at the picture on the front of the brochure. The area looked familiar. Large four story buildings climbed up a hill from the lake. In front, there was a wide dock. I opened the brochure to the second page. There, the tall cliff face from the first challenge of Total Drama Island reached into the air; another picture gave a view of the facilities from the top of the perch. "Is this what they've done to camp Wawanakwa?" I asked.

"That's what I gathered. It's owned by the same people who ran Playa des Losers. They bought up the land after the show and built another resort. It looks massive. There's a year round indoor-outdoor pool, a full spa, and like five different restaurants. The producers must have worked out some kind of funding deal with them. They're going to let us stay there for a weekend. On the Sunday, we'll film a talk show special from the resort to be played live on TeleReal. It makes sense, if you think about it. We'll be back where it all began."

"A weekend? That's sounds sweet," I remarked. "What about our compensation? Are we actually going to get anything out of all this?"

"In the documents, they frame the weekend at the resort as the compensation. Sounds like it's going to be all inclusive. The resort will pick up our tab. I bet they think the added tourism of the talk-show will make up for it. You might need to go to the spa each morning to make the most of it."

"Well, considering I'll be living at the bar otherwise, a morning at a spa does sound like a nice way to nurse a hangover. So, what do you think Courtney? Is it worth it? Should I sign it?"

"That's up to you Noah. There doesn't seem to be any tricks with this one. Not like the Total Drama Island contracts they made us sign. If they have hidden anything, then it's so deep that I could probably challenge it. I'm going to sign it. Sounds like fun. A free weekend of vacation at a resort, with Bridgette and the other contestants? I'm not going to miss that."

I smiled. "Yeah. I think I'll sign it too. It sounds like fun. I like the idea of not having to pay for anything."

"Don't get too crazy there, Noah," Courtney said in her maternal voice. "You were pretty out of it at the last reunion. If you're too fucked this time, you might not remember much."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll be fine," I said.

"You should make sure to read Schedule B of the contract. It details what's expected of you, such as your interview time." There was a slight pause. "Oh!" she said, her voice perking up slight. "I wanted to say thanks for the music you suggested. I really needed something new to listen to while I commute. I particularly liked the Tame Impala album."

"Great. I'm glad you liked them. I don't know why you live so far out, considering you stay late at work so much."

"It's tough," she admitted. "I thought it would be nice to leave the city every day. I can get claustrophobic if I'm surrounded by those buildings all the time. But, I'm starting to regret it. I barely have enough time, even on the weekends, to make it worth it. I spend more time sleeping at home than living. After my lease is done, I may consider moving downtown like you."

"You know, if you are ever working late, and you don't feel like driving all that way home, you can always crash on my couch."

"Cool. Thanks Noah. I might take you up on that. You have a good night."

"You too."

I hung up the phone. For the first moment, it felt clear to me that this was actually going to happen. There was going to be another anniversary. I would be able to see the other contestants again. The memories felt distant from me. Other than Courtney, I had not thought about the others in years. It was like another life I lived, that burned brightly for three summers, and died before I started University. Now, I would have a chance to come face to face with it. Simultaneously experiencing the life as the present, with everyone as changed as I am, and as my life, in the past, stretched back to that moment, reflected. Like I stepped into an afterlife ready to be judged by my past sins. I was prepared to put it to rest. Those miring thoughts of regrets stirred in me.

I signed the papers. Ready to face the future.

...

A couple days later, close to 9:00pm, I received an unexpected phone call. I had smoked a joint, and was intending to have a lazy evening watching nature documentaries. The pressure of the week was starting to feel crushing. I had not had time to come to terms with the idea of the reunion. Plus, I was filled with stress about my work. I was set on finishing the first draft of the final chapter of my dissertation. It would be a real relief to have it done before I needed to mark the papers of the course I was lecturing. However, I was so set on making that deadline that I often felt too panicked to work. When my cell rang, I nearly jumped up from the couch.

I did not recognize the number. It had a 323 area code. I stared at my phone for a moment, wondering who it could be on the other end. After letting it ring a couple times, I picked it up.

"Hello?" I asked, tepidly.

"Noah!" A boisterous voice called out on the other end.

"I'm sorry, who is this?" I asked.

"It's Geoff!" The voice said. "How are you doing man?"

I sat back. I had not talked to Geoff in years. I did not see him at the reunion five years before. The last time we spoke, then, was at the finale of World Tour. Ten years passed since that time. Why was he calling me now? "Okay," I replied reserved.

"Cool. I just finished speaking with the Total Drama dudes. They say that you're planning on attending the reunion. This true?" He asked casually.

"Yeah."

"Sweet. I am too."

"Cool," I responded, unsure of what he wanted.

"Right. I'll get to the point then. No reason to beat around the bush, so to say. Noah. I need a favor."

"A favor?" I asked, surprised by the idea. What could Geoff need me for? How was it connected to the anniversary?

"Yes. A favor," he said with a hushed tone. "Look, I work for a talent agency out in Hollywood. You wouldn't know about us, but we handle some pretty big names. Val Kilmer is one of our more well-known clients. Right now we're in a bit of a pickle over the whole Heather thing that has been going on."

"Heather thing? What are you talking about?" I knew Heather was working as an actress. After Volcanic Rush was released, her face was all over the city. I'd seen her in one of Chris' later films, about a group of surfers, when she played a mean ex-girlfriend. That was years before. I had not heard of anything since.

"Come on Noah. You know. Everyone's seen the TMZ clips."

"No. Seriously Geoff, I have no idea what you're talking about." I informed him.

"That's okay. No need to worry Noah. This is the reason I suggested you anyways. No one will suspect you, since even you do not know anything about it."

"Suspect me?"

"Look Noah, Heather's been under the gossip media's eye recently." He lowered his voice, so that it was barely over a whisper. "There was an overdose. She was rushed to the hospital. Heroine. Some fucking paparazzi caught a couple pictures. It's caused a bit of a storm. You know those media shrills, they get the scent of shit, and they'll swarm to it like flies. Heather's been in rehab the past couple of weeks, but it has not calmed them down at all. Every asshole with a camera is trying to get a picture of her to throw across some headline. It's a real threat to her career."

"Right," I acknowledged. This was all news to me. I rarely frequented celebrity gossip websites, except for the occasional music blog on a slow day. I considered Heather and Alejandro to be the most successful cast members of Total Drama. They were successful actors, right? Perhaps this was not an accurate picture.

"For these reasons, we've been trying to limit Heather's movement as much as possible. However, the Total Drama reunion special has thrown a bit of a wrench into these plans. See, on one hand we do not want to risk her getting exposed to any more media scrutiny. She is fragile enough as it is. On the other hand, she is desperately in need of something positive to be written about her. We think a reunion special with Chris, the cause of her career, would be just the thing we need to change the narrative about her. So, if we want her to attend the reunion, we need to sneak her into the event. Paparazzi will be out in full force trying to get a scoop on her. We need to be a step ahead of them."

"It won't be too difficult to get her into the city unnoticed. The pappz will be expecting her at the airport. We'll get her in on a plane to Montreal and then have her take a train to Toronto. The more difficult part will be getting her into the resort unnoticed. They will be expecting her to either be driving in with a friend, or in an unmarked vehicle. We need to sneak in a car they would never expect to see her."

"Like the car of a rival contestant," I suggested, starting to figure out what Geoff was getting at.

"Exactly," Geoff acknowledged. "We need someone they will recognize, but not be suspicious that Heather would be among them. You were the first person I thought about for the job."

"Thanks?" I said, not sure whether it was a compliment. "So you want me to drive her to the resort?"

"Yes," Geoff agreed.

"How will they not see her sitting next to me or in the back?" I asked.

"Simple. They're not going to look. When I drive in, they are going to look. You have to understand Noah, you're worth nothing to these people. A paparazzi picture of you is completely worthless. It has no value whatsoever. No offence. They'll see your head, and immediately turn away. You're not worth the film."

I took no offence. My life would be considerably different if paparazzi wanted a photo of me. Although, Geoff could have phrased it a little nicer. "There's a complication however."

"Yeah?" Geoff asked.

"I'm not driving to the resort. I'm getting a ride from Courtney," I informed him. I had not actually asked Courtney about it, nor had we talked about travelling to the resort at all, but it was the likely way I was going to get there. I did not have a car. Whenever I needed to drive somewhere, either Courtney gave me a lift or I borrowed my parent's car. Considering Courtney and I would be going to the same place, I was certain Courtney would be willing to give me a lift. It was the smartest plan. We'd split the gas money and have someone to talk with on the way.

"Courtney?" Geoff spoke surprised. "You know Courtney? Bridgette never mentioned that."

Bridgette was the only other contestant that Courtney kept in contact with. Bridgette was a professional surfer who lived in Honolulu. Every couple of months she would crash on Courtney's couch for a couple of weeks and mooch off Courtney's generosity. Bridgette and I did not get along. Whenever she was around, she turned Courtney into a sorority party girl. They were always going to some club or another. Courtney would drag me along a couple nights, for 'old time's sake', despite the fact that I had no 'old-times' with them. I'd spend the night leaning against the wall nursing my drink, while the two of them danced for hours. Bridgette always called me a stiff collar, or a stick in the mud. It was just not my scene. The last time she was around, I feigned stomach flu whenever Courtney called. It did not surprise me Bridgette never mentioned me. There was not much to mention.

"Yeah. We've been in contact for a while. She works not far from where I live."

"Cool. Shit. Alright. Fuck." Geoff sounded conflicted on the phone. "This is going to complicate things."

"Why's that? No paparazzi wants a photo of Courtney either. There's not a person in the world who would think that those two would drive together to this thing," I suggested. There was no reason for me to be helping Geoff. I had not even said that I would do it. I rubbed my eyes. I was too high for this conversation.

"Yeah, but Courtney's a bigger target than you. A pappz might steal a photo, because why not? You're perfect because no one would ever do that."

"Why don't you call someone like Ezekiel? You couldn't pay someone to want a photo of him."

"Do you really think Ezekiel would take in a recovering heroin addict? It doesn't matter anyway, the only contestants who live in Toronto are you, Courtney and Leshawna. Leshawna would never do it. You're still the best option we have."

I had no idea Leshawna lived in Toronto. How much had the Total Drama producers told Geoff?

"So, Noah, are you willing to do it?"

"Sure," I remarked, without thinking about it.

"You're a life saver Noah. We'll make it up to you. I promise." He hung up the phone.

I sat back on my couch, still stoned, wondering what the hell I just agreed to.

…

Author's Notes:

Here's the next chapter! I hope you liked it. It's fun to delicately build everything up. If something's not clear at the moment, let me know so I can try to refine it later.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.


	3. The Interview

**Chapter 3: The Interview**

A couple weeks following my initial contact with the Producers, I was asked to conduct an interview about my time on Total Drama and the years following. I woke up slightly hung over the morning of the interview. I'd watched a marathon of old Spaghetti westerns the night before on my laptop. I started with The Great Silence, then Day of Anger, and finally Death Rides a Horse. Before I knew it, I'd finished eight tall cans of PBR, my vision was blurry and I passed out before the last movie finished. I felt queezy and uncomfortable when I woke up. The back of my throat scratched each time I tried to take a breath. I tilted my head and drank water straight from the tap. Feeling a little dizzy, I put on a pair of jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt. I thought I'd try to look casual for the interview. I toasted some bread, the only food I could imagine my stomach would be able to eat.

The interview was at a TeleReal studio in the Corus Entertainment Inc headquarters at 25 Dockside Drive. It felt like an overwhelming distance to my nauseous regretful self. I'd drank the beer the night before to calm my nerves. I was anxious at the prospect of being interviewed for the first time since the end of the show. As I often did with things, I overdid it, drinking far more than was needed to be calm. If anything, I frayed my nerves with such a spiraling candid panic that my anxiety had actually built up rather than abated.

It was going to be a long day. The last thing I wanted to do was be interrogated by the producers of Total Drama. I threw on a leather jacket and sunglasses. I grabbed a quick coffee, then took the 6 bus at Bedford and Davenport, and rode it down to the docks.

The Corus Headquarters is a glass office building just off the lake. It's about eight stories tall and stretches the block. The building is split into two parts by a solid glass block in the middle. Budding towers, only about two floors higher, grow on either sides.

The main entrance leads into the central area. It's a wide open space, with a tall ceiling about five storeys high. The whole space is whimsical, almost absurdly fantastical, like stepping into a child's fantasy. Park bench like tables scatter the floor. Near the ceiling, round tube-like walk ways stretch from one side of the room to the other, like bridges. There is a three storey tall cube in the middle, with a slide spiralling down from the top. An impressionistic sculpture hangs down. It twists and turns like yarn around the square and the slide. The floor is painted with bright streaks of color, like waves rushing from one end to the other. Immediately to the right, there is a living wall covered in vegetation nearly reaching the ceiling.

I stood for a moment, taking in the surroundings. Instead of feeling impressed, my stomach churned at the sensory overload. I felt like sitting down for a moment.

I headed to what looked like a reception desk. I described my situation to her. I'd been informed of the date and time of the interview, but not details such as the exact room where it would take place. I expected to be given a call or something informing me, but TeleReal was silent.

The receptionist gave me a warm smile, and told me to sit for a moment. She said she would give them a call. I found an empty wooden bench to park myself on, happy to be released of my wooziness. I kept my head in my hands. The bright room irritated my eyes, even with my sunglasses on. I coughed slightly, trying to regain my composure.

A tall man wearing a tailored suit walked up to me. He had blonde hair parted to one side. "Noah?" he asked with a warm voice. I nodded. We shook hands. "I'm here to get you. Please follow me."

We exited the large open room into a regular looking office hallway. "My name's Jake," the man spoke as we walked. "You might not remember me, but we used to work together. I was one of the producer's assistants when you were Chris' assistant," he said casually.

"Jake," I said to myself, trying to place the name. The image of a short kid with long blonde hair and aviator sunglasses popped into my head. He was an awkward kid with acne. On our breaks, he would play Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix tapes. Unlike a lot of the other eager assistants, he was laid back. We'd make fun of our bosses, Chris and the producers, behind their backs. He'd talk about spitting in their coffee, if he had the chance. "Yeah. I remember you. You've gotten taller," I remarked.

Jake smiled. He turned to me. "A late growth spurt. I feared I'd always be that size. But, once I turned seventeen, I shot up. God," he spoke nostalgically. "We were just kids back then, weren't we? I was sixteen. How old were you?"

"Seventeen," I told him.

"That was eleven years ago," he said, as if coming to terms with the truth of the statement. He scratched the back of his head nervously. "It feels like yesterday that I started here. I'm one of the producers now. I'm working on the reunion from the top, not the bottom."

"Really? Good for you. That's cool," I commented genuinely. "You really moved up." It was hard to imagine that he was now one of the producers we used to crack jokes about.

Jake nodded. "It's exciting. When they started talking about a reunion around here, I was sure to be a part of it. Working on that show was a real pleasure. I'm more than happy to be one of the people running it this year. When I heard you were here to do an interview, I volunteered to come grab you. Usually we send one of the interns to do this, but I thought considering our history, this would be more appropriate."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Thanks man."

"Here we are." Jake pointed at an unmarked door. "This is where you'll do prep. The stylist will bring you into the studio. I have to get back to work getting things sorted out with the resort. It was nice seeing you Noah."

"You too," I said. "Take care." He flashed me a smile and headed down the hallway.

Through the door, the room was white with a black lacer shelf lining one side. On the shelf there were a number of different bottles and jars. Large mirrors plastered the wall above the it; incandescent lightbulbs lined the mirrors' edges. Leather chairs were placed before the shelf. An old woman stood watching me. She had grey hair with blue highlights and glasses resting on her nose. Without a word, she motioned me to take a seat.

I sat down in the chair. She began by spraying my hair with a spritzer filled with water. Then, she began to mold my hair into a messy look. The finished project was not entirely different than what my hair looked like before, but it was made to be deliberately looked at on one side. Next, she began to apply makeup. First, she cleaned my face with a mild cleansing cream. She applied a layer of foundation on my face, ears, and neck using a foam rubber sponge. A light trace of rouge was blended onto my cheeks. Finally, she used a soft bristled brush to apply a transparent powder.

The stylist pressed on the back of my shoulder. I took the signal to stand. We walked to a room down the hall through another unmarked door. In the room, there were racks of clothes organized by rows. She began to walk through the racks, pulling off clothes, and handing me them. She grabbed a number of tweed blazers, white and blue dress shirts, brown v-neck pullovers, and grey or brown pants. She pointed at a closet with a curtain over front of it. I walked into it, and began to try on the clothes. To my surprise, they fit me well. She'd obviously trained her eyes to read sizes well over the years. I ended up with a tweed blazer, brown pullover, grey pants, and a white shirt without a tie. It was a real classic professor look. I understood then how they intended to show me. While I did not look bad, it felt inauthentic to me. Like I was a child playing dress up.

When I left the changing area, there was a teenager standing next to the stylist. The old lady gave me a thumbs up, and stumbled out of the room.

"You're to follow me," the assistant said. I assume this would have been the person to grab me earlier, had Jake not intervened.

We walked into a small soundstage. A man walked up to me, clipped a wireless microphone receptor to my belt, and attached the microphone to my lapel. An old wooden chair with engravings stood in front of a green screen. There was a cameraman, boom operator, and a man sitting in a director's type chair. The assistant whispered something into the ear of the man sitting.

"Ah. Noah. Please," He directed his hand towards the chair. "Take a seat. My name is Thomas. It's nice to meet you." I stepped onto the sound stage. I noticed at that moment that I was still wearing the converse I had walked into the building with. They had no interest in filming my feet. "Now, Noah, when you are sitting in that chair, I would like you to stare at my friend here to the right." Thomas pointed to the man holding the boom. I nodded. The man holding the boom had droopy eyes. He wore a Blue Jays cap and scowled at me. "Alright," Thomas spun his hand in the air. Bright lights burst on. They were all turned in my direction. I could feel the heat press on me. Thomas continued "I will be asking you a number of questions. We would appreciate it if you would answer them as candidly and forthcoming as possible. We want to get the best picture of Noah that we can. Is that alright with you?"

"Sure," I said under my breath. It brought me back to the questions I had been asked a couple weeks before on the phone. An awful taste filled my mouth.

"Great," Thomas said. "Lets begin. Noah. You participated in two seasons of Total Drama: Total Drama Island and Total Drama World Tour. What are your feelings towards those shows now? Lets start with Total Drama Island."

I was silent for a moment. I had not actually thought about it much. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Your thoughts on the show. What's your impression now, looking back at it? You went out pretty early. Does that anger you?"

I let out a slight laugh. "No. It doesn't anger me at all. I probably deserved to get kicked out when I did. I was kid, sixteen, acting all cocky and self-righteous liked I owned the place. I would have probably voted me off sooner. It's not like I really minded back then either. I had much more fun at Playa Des Losers than I ever did at the camp. That's where I made better friends: Eva, Izzy, Cody. While everyone else was suffering in those challenges, we lapped in up in luxury."

"Would you consider those three your best friends from Total Drama?" Thomas continued.

"From the first season, yes. During the finale, it was natural for Eva, Izzy and I to team up. We'd been up to a number of shenanigans at the resort. I was friendly with Owen, but he was competing the whole time we were there. It wasn't until Total Drama World Tour that he and I really became friends. Tyler too."

"Could you give us an example, a fun story perhaps, of something you, Izzy, and Eva did while at Playa Des Losers?"

"Sure," I said. "Let me think," I bit my lip. There were not very many funny stories that would interest the public. Eva and I spent most of our time complaining about the other contestants. Once Izzy joined us, she seemed like she was in another world. We barely acknowledged her presence. "There was one time," I began, "it was late. Nearly midnight I think. Eva and Izzy came knocking at my door. Izzy said something about wanting to go visit the other campers. I told her to just knock on everyone's door, but that's when I realized that she meant the contestants still in the game. This was right after she was voted off for a second time. You couldn't talk her out of a plan once she got it in her head. So, I followed down to the docks with them, curious about Izzy's plan. She threw me a life jacket, jumped in a canoe, and started to order that we get in. Both Eva and I looked at each other. It's obvious that she was going to go no matter what we say. So, stupidly, we jumped in. Eva sat in the back, Izzy sat in the front, and I kneeled in the middle. Eva and Izzy did all of the paddling. I'm not even sure why I was brought along. We were going for maybe, twenty minutes, when I ask if we knew where we were going. They had no idea! Ha! I nearly killed them. Luckily, we were able to find our way back, but I did not talk to them the next day."

"Thanks," Thomas said.

That's not exactly how that story truly ended. We were frightened in the dark. We could not see any further inland than the line of trees on the coast. After we had gone in the canoe, clouds had passed over top of the moon. Desperate, we paddled to the closest dock. There was a house with its lights out up a small path, but we were too afraid that someone was sleeping in it. Instead, the three of us slept on the dock till sunrise. It was a cold night. We laid close together for warmth. The next day, we did not talk, too embarrassed about how scared we had been, and about how close we got.

"Do you keep in touch with any of them?"

"No," I admitted. "I haven't talked to most of them since the five year anniversary."

"Do you keep in contact with anyone?"

"Sure. Courtney and I are friends."

"Courtney? Really? Interesting. Were you two friends on the show at all?"

"No. I wouldn't say so."

"How did you become friends then?"

"Afterwards. We attended the same University once the show was over. Then we lived in the same city while I did grad work and she attended law school. We've stayed in the same city since then."

"Why do you think you were able to be friends in that environment, but not in the show?"

I thought for a moment. I never considered there was a reason for her and I were able to be friends after, but not before. I started to talk off the top of my head. "Well, uh, I guess, Courtney gets very focused when she's competitive. I think that's clear to see in the show. There's a fiery intensity to her. While she was in law school, you could hear the same fire in her voice. I've never really been able to keep up with her when she's like that. When we met during our undergrad, that competitive edge no longer applied to me. We were no longer enemies. That probably had something to do with it. It's hard to say though, isn't it? Things happen. We can try to give ad hoc explanations to them, but they're all approximations, right?"

"Right. Lets get back to the show for a moment. You talked about Total Drama Island briefly, what about Total Drama World Tour? You lasted longer in that show. You were older as well. Earlier, you talked about being a kid on Total Drama Island. There was a two year gap between the first show and the second. You were eighteen during World Tour, instead of sixteen. Do you think you had matured? Were you still that same kid?" Thomas asked.

"Well, in one sense, I'm still that same kid now. But, I'd say that I did mature between the seasons. I might have still been a little full of myself, but I did not let that blind me from the other contestants. I enjoyed being on my team. I liked the other contestants on it, except for perhaps Alejandro and Duncan. Duncan and I never got along, and Alejandro's pretty self explanatory considering what was going on in that show."

"Sure," Thomas agreed. "What was your favorite place that you visited on the show?"

"The Alps. Easy," I said reflexively.

"Really? The Alps. Weren't you eliminated first in that competition?"

"Sure. It was beautiful though. Owen eating the sausage was hilarious. I'll never forget Cody wearing lederhosen. I had a lot of fun. It was also the first time I started to realize the type of game Alejandro was playing."

"Do you have any regrets from that season?"

"Regrets?" I chewed the word in my mouth. "No. I would not say so. I never expected to win. I never played to win. I was pretty sick of things when I was finally voted off, so I didn't mind. It gave me more time to prepare for university in the fall. I'm pretty satisfied with World Tour."

"Alright," Thomas nodded his head. "Lets move on then. Where did you go to University?"

"The University of Ottawa," I said.

"What was your major?"

"History."

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah," I answered. "My first year was okay. I spent most of my time partying on my dorm floor. I probably spent more time drinking than reading my books. It was kind of an intense environment, you know? There was a lot of pressure to keep up with everyone else living around me. My roommate was always on. He was always dragging me along. It was fun, but I did not make many friends. No real friends, anyway."

"That changed in your second year?"

"Yep. I joined the History student group: the HSA. It was nice. I met a few more students who were more academically inclined. They really challenged me to try harder. I wanted them to consider me one of their equals. My GPA shot up. It was a good time."

"You mentioned that you and Courtney attended the same school. Did you connect right away?" Thomas followed up.

I shook my head. "No. She was in poli-sci, so we rarely ran into each other. It was only in second year that we actually met up and talked."

"So was she one of those more academically inclined students?"

"No," I said. "I mean, she was not one of those students I was just referring to. She was very successful academically. And, I guess she did push me to try harder as well. She can actually be quite supportive if you're not fighting on reality television with her."

Thomas chuckled at the comment. "Once you were finished your undergrad, you went to graduate school, right?" he continued.

"Yes. At the University of Toronto," I clarified.

"Was that your top choice?"

"Top choice? No. I applied to Oxford. I didn't get in though. Not that it would have mattered. I had a friend who was accepted, but it's so expensive, that if you do not have funding, then there's no point. University of Toronto was my top realistic choice."

"And now you're getting your PHD there."

"Yes. It's been a real honour."

"Was this your dream? To get a PHD in history?" Thomas pressed.

"I," I paused for a moment. "I guess so."

"You don't sound very enthused about it being your dream," Thomas observed.

"Well," I tried to think of the best way to express it. "It's my dream in the sense that I could not imagine a place I would rather be. When I was surrounded by the other academic kids in my undergrad, it was the first time I felt like I was in the place I wanted to be. My last few years in academia, it's been tough, but that feeling of comfort's always been there."

"What is your specialty?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you hope to teach?"

"A number of things. I'd like to teach early 20th century America or Canada. My thesis is on the settlement of Sikhs from the British army in British Columbia, at the start of the 20th century. I'm looking at their effects on the populations. There was race riots at the fear that their migration would steal jobs. The government banned them from being able to bring their wives over to the New World, trying to appease the white population. I'm doing a comparative study looking at how this treatment compares to other Commonwealth countries, and some non-commonwealth countries who were part of the Indian diaspora at the time."

"Interesting. What made you decide to study this?"

"Well, my grandparents on my father's side were Indian immigrants themselves in the late fifties. They suffered much hardship when they arrived. My grandfather struggled for decades to allow my father the position he is in now. Hearing these stories while I grew up helped foster my interest in history. Once I entered grad school, I thought it was appropriate to tell others the stories of Canadian Indian immigrants, and this is what it's turned into."

"So, you're living in Toronto at the moment?" Thomas asked.

"Right," I nodded. "Downtown near the university."

"Do you have a spouse? Or a girlfriend?"

"No," I said simply.

"Any family around?"

"Most of my family lives in Brampton. I visit every once in a while. I have a brother who lives out west. When I've visited BC to do research, I've stayed with him."

"Great," Thomas spoke. "You've spoken briefly about a number of the contestants who were your friends. I hoped you could speak briefly about a couple of the other contestants."

"Sure," I agreed.

"What are your thoughts about Duncan? You said that you two never got along." Thomas questioned.

I smiled. I knew the game they were playing. They were hoping I would say something flagrant about an old enemy. Something that would bring in numbers, or look good in a television spot. I was not going to give it to them. "I just meant we were not compatible people. I thought he was cool. I respected his attitude. The man knew what he wanted, and he went for it." These were not particularly lies. I did think that about Duncan. I also thought he was a grade A asshole.

"How about Alejandro? You said something about what was going on in the show."

"Well, he was playing it different from how I was. Considering how far he got, he was probably playing it correctly. He's successful now, isn't he? I guess it has worked out for him in the long run too. Not sure I could do that."

Thomas was shaking his head. These were not the answers he was looking for. "Justin?"

I paused for a moment. I guess I could give him one sound bit. "The anti-me? What a jerk. I still remember him screwing me over in the end of the first season. My only regret of the show is that I didn't punch him in the face. It's no matter. I'll have the last laugh. Brains last longer than good looks do." It was liberating letting out a bit of my frustration on Justin. I'm not sure if he deserved it, but there was no one I cared less about his feelings than him.

"Great," Thomas smiled. "Now, what about Heather?"

"Heather?" I remembered my phone call with Geoff earlier. The nature of his request.

"I hope she's okay."

…

_Author's Notes:_

_Sorry for taking so long to upload this chapter. I actually wrote it a while ago, but kept forgetting to give it a good edit and look over._

_In case you are curious, the Corus Entertainment headquarters actually looks like that. I'm not sure if I did it justice in my description, but I'd suggest giving it a look. It's an interesting piece of architecture._

_Please Leave a Review._

_Thanks. BJ. _


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